"May I come in", the 14-year old boy peered from behind the curtain and asked the man sitting inside. The hut was an old one and light forced its way through the dark paper sheets pasted on the areas where windows were supposed to be. The result was an orangish hue that lit the small hut in certain areas and left darkness rule in other areas. Incense burning in a corner enhanced the divinity that the hue was trying to build. Chacha was a 40 year old man. He had remained a 40 year old man for everyone in the slum for many years now. His familiar white vest and blue checkered dhoti fluttering in the mornings was a part of the slum's landscape. No one knew his real name. Not even Uncle Anthony who had a star hanging outside his hut right in the middle of the slum, adjacent to the shanty Lakshmi temple. The temple was built next to Uncle Anthony's home by the rioters, thinking that this would drive him away. No one dared to harm Uncle Anthony. He was the favourite of everybody and the eldest member of the slum. Miscreants had propped up a canvas using bamboo sticks and placed an old calendar carrying a picture of goddess Lakshmi. No one had the courage to remove this rickety new place of worship and thus the temple had come into existence. That was last year. "Come in beta, you have come at the right time. Your mother was supposed to send you last evening but I had some other work. Your brothers rarely visit me these days. I hear they are making good money out there in the bad city world", he coughed and spluttered. "Yes Chacha, both of them are now earning Rs. 50 in a day! My mother is very happy. She even has money to buy bangles this Diwali", he gleamed with a boyish happiness. Chacha nodded his head in a smile and looked upward and murmured a thank you and a god-bless in one breath. "Chacha, I have now started playing cricket with the school boys. They agreed to let me play after I smashed the ball into the walls of those apartments." "That is very good beta, but now its time you started earning more for the family and cut down on your games". The little boy nodded gravely and understood. He had to also share responsibilities with his other brothers. He was earning only Rs. 10 in a day. But games were fun. Pictures of him hitting the ball loftily into the mango tree conjured up in front of his eyes. He could smell the mangoes fallen down and saw them wispily appear amongst the dust that moved in a stream of light across the hut. Everytime Chacha spoke, the dust particles in the ray of light fluttered around angrily and settled down once he became quiet. It was clear that the dust didn't like Chacha speaking. "Have you played cricket Chacha?", the boy asked and thought about Chacha holding the bat in a queer manner. The boy mischeviously smiled at himself at the funny image he made in his mind. "Ofcourse, I was the one who taught every kid here how to play the game", Chacha grunted and bellowed. The dust particles were clearly unhappy and took a lot of time to settle back into their mundane activity of going from one end of the light ray to the other. "Will you teach me also Chacha? I can hit sixes but I get out very easily. Everyone laughs when I hit a six. Why do they do that Chacha?" Chacha was busy opening his old cloth bag. It was, in its early days, a bag with blue and yellow stripes running horizontally across it. Now it just looked plain grey. Chacha removed a bottle of orange liquid and placed it on the mat. He then removed some tools and a few pieces of cloth. The little boy still saw the image of fallen mangoes amidst the patterns made by the flowing dust particles. He wanted to reach out to those fallen mangoes, pick them up and smell them. They were his. He had hit the six, after all. Chacha got up and brought a small flat piece of rock from the corner of the hut, below the old plastic table with three legs, and placed it at the centre of the mat. He sat down next to it. "Chacha, have you ever eaten raw mangoes? My mother says adults don't eat them. They are not good for the stomach. Is that true?" Chacha continued working with his old tools. Occassionally, he looked at them with disgust and occassionally he looked heavenward for some sort of support. "Beta, come here now. Its time". Chacha made the boy sit on the mat and placed both his little tiny arms on the rock. With one swift swerve of the axe, the work was done. Swabs of cloth and tincture were applied immediately and the boy continued crying. He cried for long, eventually ending up in an occassional shiver. "You can now earn 50 rupees beta, just like your brothers. People will shower more sympathy on you. A little kid with no hands always earns a lot. Your mother will be very happy now. All her 3 sons earning so much", Chacha smiled with satisfaction and praised the lord. The little boy was happy to hear that. 50 rupees in a day. That was too good to be true. Although the tears covered his face, the happiness started making its presence felt. He could never a hit six again though. The fallen mangoes lay still amidst the dust. He could no longer pick them up. But adults don't eat raw mangoes. Mother had said that. He didn't need those mangoes anymore. He was an adult. He smiled and hopped out of the hut.